


Trying To Do What's Right...

by AllHallowsEve



Series: Wincest Colored Glasses [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Desire, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s01e21 Salvation, Fear, Guilt, Lust, M/M, Pain, Pre-Slash, Self Loathing, Violence, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHallowsEve/pseuds/AllHallowsEve
Summary: The Winchesters have to split up again.  There are two life or death situations in play from Meg and her master that both have to be stopped but the price is high, and so much is almost lost in the process.Episode 21 as seen through Wincest colored glasses.





	Trying To Do What's Right...

**Author's Note:**

> This one felt like I was in a game of emotional twister while writing it. 
> 
> As always this is unbeta'd so please point out any mistakes so I can make it better for everyone.

Sam’s heart sank when Monica, the nice lady he had just met, told him that her baby, Rosie, was turning 6 months today.  He knew this was the family the demon had picked to destroy next the way he had the Winchester family all those years ago.  He didn’t know how to tell her, so he just left it for the moment. 

He crossed the road, his soul heavy, unsure how to save these people in the few hours that remained before their fate cam for them.  The demon would be there to kill Monica, just as he had killed Sam’s own mother so long ago.  Sam had seen it clearly in his latest vision, the one that had brought him to be here to their street in the first place.

He watched as the baby’s father drove into the drive way of the innocent house where they lived, and tried to get his thoughts straight.  He needed to turn the fear and panic he was feeling into action, but he seemed frozen to the spot at the moment.

He was already wracked with guilt over finding out that the loss of his mom and Jess had truly been about him.  His father had told him back when they were still in the cabin in Manning, Colorado, that Sam had been exactly six months old when the demon had come for him, the day his mother had burned.  John had told the boys about the research he had been doing that proved that what had been happening all those years ago, with the demon visiting babies and killing mothers was happening all over again right now. 

He had explained that he had found signs a week before each occurrence of the demon showing up but he had never been fast enough to save anyone before.  Sam wasn’t sure why, but knowing it was a special half birthday for him, knowing that there had been signs, made it feel even more like it was his fault.  That somehow the demon wanted him, but he didn’t know why it didn’t just take him to begin with, take all the babies and spare the mothers.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that the cause was firmly planted on his own shoulders somehow.

Dean had vehemently denied that it was Sam’s fault.  Sam assured him he knew it wasn’t his fault, saying, “But it’s my problem.”

Dean denied that too, saying, “No, it’s not your problem, it’s _our_ problem!”

But no matter how much he wanted Dean to believe that he didn’t blame himself, he did.  Deep down, he knew somehow it was his fault.  And if he didn’t find a way to stop what he had seen in his God forsaken vision, then Monica’s death would be on him too.

As he stood watching the happy family, another vision struck Sam.  This one had more clarity, showed more detail as well as the horrible end result of Monica’s dying in a fire on the ceiling, just like Mom, just like Jess.

Sam didn’t want to tell Dean about this, didn’t want to tell his dad.  He had no clue how John would handle something like this.  It had been a miracle Dean hadn’t turned on him for it, and their dad was twice as hard headed about stuff like this as Dean had ever hoped to be.  Sam just wanted to camp out here in front of this family’s house and save them himself but he knew he couldn’t.  They had made a deal.   The Winchesters were taking the demon on together, and that meant just like John couldn’t go off on his own, neither could Sam.

But he didn’t want to sit with his father and explain any of this.  His stomach was in knots as he made his way back to the motel room the three had set up as base camp.

Dean was immediately sympathetic when Sam explained what happened, but John was anything but.  He got the pissed tone the boys knew all too well anytime something had gone off the rails during a hunt.  He asked Dean in a harsh accusatory tone, “When were you gonna tell me about this?”

Dean explained that they hadn’t known what it meant. 

It did nothing to mollify John as he said, “Something like this starts happening to your brother, and you pick up the phone and you call me.” 

His eyes were on Dean, as was all the blame.  The way it always had been when they were little, anything happened to either boy, especially to Sam, and the burden of ownership for the issue landed flatly at Dean’s feet.

Normally Sam would have jumped in instantly to defend his brother, say that it was Sam’s problem and not Dean’s responsibility.  But the pain from the vision still pierced his skull, it slowed his response time just enough that before Sam could clear his mind to utter a word in Dean’s defense, Dean turned and faced his father.

His shoulders were squared as he walked passed Sam towards the bed where his father sat.  “Call you?”

He huffed before asserting, “Are you kiddin’ me?  His tone was one of incredulity.

He threw up his hands as he said “Dad, I called you from Lawrence, all right? Sam called you when I was dying.”

His frustration rose as he continued, spitting bitterly down at his father, “Getting’ you on the phone, I got a better chance of winning the lottery.”

Sam watched his brother stand tall in front of him, defending them both against their father.  This new side to Dean was intriguing.  He wasn’t sure what had changed, but back there in Colorado, fighting those vampires, something had shifted in Dean.  He was more self assured, somehow acting more his father’s equal than Sam would have ever thought possible. 

Of course Sam had always seen Dean as more than equal to John, more of a care giver, more of his defender, more his savior, than John had ever been for Sam.  But this side of Dean was new, it was like Dean was finally more comfortable in his own skin somehow, more than Sam had ever seen him, especially around their father.  It was happening just when Sam was feeling less so.

Sam was in a crisis.  He had been ever since Colorado.  At first he had thought it was just embarrassment over his father seeing him fail in a hunt, for the first time as an adult.  That had indeed stung, he had been so busy trying to convince John that he wasn’t a child, that he could hold his own, and the first thing that he had done was get captured by the vampire and used against Dean, making him drop his weapon. 

But there was something more.  Sam had counted on John’s being there to control his desire for Dean, to dampen it and keep them both safe from it.  With that, it would allow Sam to stay with Dean, stay by his side hunting the way he truly wanted to and not have to leave his brother for fear of his desire for him being discovered. 

But something had gone wrong, it was not going according to plan at all.  Sam had begun having more dreams since his Dad had gotten there.   Dean’s new found bravery in the face of his father’s anger was a huge part of it.  It was making Sam’s lust kick up a notch.  It was causing his desire to burn brighter, instead of a regular flame, it burned white hot like phosphorus.

And last night, he had had to make a pallet on the floor because there were only two beds in the room they had taken as their base of operations.  The three of them sharing a room, it brought up memories of all the times the boys had shared a bed in the past when they were younger.  The last few times they had done so, Sam had just hit puberty and it was a nightmare, trying to control his desire for his brother with Dean pressed up against him in the darkness. Trying not to let Dean feel his erections, and fearing he would cry out Dean’s name in the middle of the night while he was having wet dreams about him, which had started occurring more and more especially when they shared a bed.

So even though Sam had taken the floor gladly, the memories from before were all around him as he had slept fitfully, and the dreams started again, waking him with a climax and Dean’s name on his lips.  He had been unsure if he had said it aloud or only in his dream, and laid awake listening in panic for any signs that either man had heard or understood the significance of any noise he might have made. 

Sam felt so lost, that when John’s eyes went from Dean, dropping down to examine his younger son, Sam turned away, unable to return the eye contact.  On top of the fear that haunted him the rest of the previous night, there was a feeling of embarrassment, shame even, over the revelation of his new powers or visions or whatever the hell they were, making him feel self conscious and vulnerable like he had all his life around his father.  His younger self never quite measured up to the Winchester standard of his father and brother, always less than, different.

The anger and bravado he had wrapped around himself when he used to fight his father before leaving for Stanford, the same heady combination he had used aggressively during their confrontations while on the vampire hunt, was gone.  It had faded in the shadow of the wrongness or freakishness he felt because of his psychic visions mixed with the guilt from his incestuous sexual desires.

John hung his head looking down at the floor momentarily before admitting, “You’re right.”

He continued, eyeballing Dean as he did, “Although I’m not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you’re right.”

Dean couldn’t believe it when his father actually said, “I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself as he stood in the wake of that.  But he didn’t have to figure it out because Sam jumped in, dispelling the emotional breakthrough with the facts of the case.  Saying that whether it was based on visions or just the facts that the today was Rosie’s six month birthday, they had to do something or that family would suffer the same hell as their own.

Before they could formulate a plan of how to make sure that never happened again, Meg called Sam’s cell phone asking to speak to John.

She taunted him with the surprising fact that she had killed Father Jim, watched him choke on his own blood yesterday.  She told him that today she was in Lincoln, visiting another old friend of his, Caleb.

John tried to get her off the trail, saying Caleb had nothing to do with anything John was doing.  She wasn’t having it, saying they knew that he had the Colt.

He denied knowing what she was talking about and as a punishment for that, she slit Caleb’s throat and made John listen to him while he bled out.

She told him that she would continue to go through his friends, his loved ones, anyone that had ever meant anything to him, one by one, until he handed over the Colt.

He agreed reluctantly, and she gave him an address in an abandoned warehouse to meet her, telling him to come alone by midnight tonight.

He explained everything to the boys, saying she must be a demon, or at least one possessing a human.  He detailed his plan of getting another antique gun and handing it over.  Dean objected, saying it would never work that she would figure it out.  John said he only needed to buy a few hours.

Sam put it all together, understanding John’s plan before it dawned on Dean.  He whispered in disbelief, “You mean for Dean and me.”

Sam’s face went blank, assuming the mask he wore to hide his pain and fear, and his voice took on a flat tone, no longer able to meet his father’s eyes as he stated, “You want us to stay here,”

His eyes couldn’t stay away from his father’s face, but when he looked at him again, it was with tears in his eyes, “and kill the demon by ourselves?”  His voice was so quiet it was hard to hear by the end.

John watched in awe as his youngest son put all the pieces together. Standing before him he saw the man Sam had become for the very first time.  He saw his son’s brilliance and it added to the weight of sorrow for the time his pushing Sam away had cost him.

Dean looked from his father to Sam and back to his father, his mouth forming a disbelieving “o” of shock.

John denied the accusation that hung in the air, “No Sam, I want to stop losing people we love.  I want you to go to school. I want Dean to have a home.”

He turned his back on his sons and walked towards the window, unable to see the vulnerability in his son’s faces as he whispered, “I want Mary alive.”

He began to sob. The boys could see it in the rise and fall of his shoulders and the sniffles as they grew louder.

He turned back to them with tears in his eyes, his voice thick with it, “I just, I just want this to be over.”

The brothers looked at each other, both raw from seeing their father, the stalwart beast of a man that never broke, never, not once in their lives, until now, and shared a silent conversation between themselves.

They had never been so afraid, had never felt the weight of responsibility for getting a job done, and not screwing up, the way they did at that very moment.  The only saving grace was they had each other, they were in it together, come hell or high water, and were sure of both having each other’s back without question.

John sent Dean to get a gun that would be good enough to fool Meg while he and Sam prepped his weapons and made a plan of attack for them all for the night.

Quicker than John expected, Dean pulled the Impala up behind John’s truck and handed him the replica weapon.

Dean’s brow was furrowed with worry when he asked his father, “You know this is a trap, don’t you?”

John examined the gun feeling its heft, looking at the age and make, proud of what a good job Dean had done picking it out.   He looked at his oldest and assured him he could handle Meg with the arsenal he and Sam had put together, beginning to describe what they had gathered.

Dean cut him off reluctantly, but the weight in his heart of fear and anxiety over his father’s safety won out over his need to be a good soldier.  He said, “Dad, promise me something, if this thing goes south, just get the hell out.  Don’t get yourself killed, all right?  You’re no good to us dead.” He huffed out a small laugh at the end, trying to lighten the gravity of what he had just asked.

It made Dean completely uncomfortable saying what he did, but he had only just gotten his father back after almost a year of worrying about him, he couldn’t believe he was being forced to stand aside and let John go into a fight against a demon alone.  At least Dean had Sam and Sam had Dean to watch their backs, but John would be facing this all on his own, with a bogus payoff to a threat from something that was strong enough to survive a seven story fall, and kill two seasoned hunters in the last two days.

Sam watched his brother basically bare his soul to his father in a way none of the Winchester men were comfortable with.  He felt for Dean, knowing what their dad meant to him. This new self assured side to his brother, kept catching Sam off guard, giving him a sense of vertigo.  Not only was it allowing Dean to stand toe to toe with John in a way he never had before, but now, his brother, who would rather cut off his own arm with a dull rusty knife than share his emotions, was saying things like this.  Sam felt off kilter and wasn’t sure what to say or do, other than just bear witness to it all.

Their father surprised them both, with no bluster or harsh instructions, after only a moment of quiet, his only retort was a soft, serious, “Same goes for you.”

John immediately broke the heavy emotion laden spell that had fallen between the three by beginning to explain about the actual Colt, and the fact that there were only four bullets left, instructing them that without those bullets, the gun was useless.  He ended with a plain, “You make every shot count.”

Sam seemed to pick up the good soldier attitude without complaint, simply saying, “Yes sir.”

Dean’s eyes cut to Sam in surprised curiosity.  He didn’t know what to make of Sam’s behavior the last couple of days.  He was withdrawn and more quiet than normal, and he had said more simple ‘yes sir’s’ than Dean could ever remember occurring in Sam’s whole teenage years combined.

John confessed with a heavy heart, “I’ve been waiting a long time for this fight. Now it’s here, and I’m not gonna be in it.”

He looked from son to son, with an importance that poured from every syllable, “It’s up to you boys now.” 

He looked down and swallowed hard, accepting the next part unhappily, “It’s your fight.  You finish this.  You finish what I started, you understand?”

His father handed Dean the genuine Colt, the gravity of it feeling like a passing of a torch was lost on no one.

Sam watched his brother as he struggled through heavy emotions.  Dean’s full attention seemed focused on examining the gun in his hand, turning it this way and that, but Sam knew better.  He had been watching his big brother his entire life, analyzing every nuance of Dean, knew his body language and could read it like a dog eared, well worn, well loved book. He shouldered some of the weight Dean was feeling and put it into confidence filled words, “We’ll see you soon, Dad.”

Sam hoped they conveyed so much more faith and belief than he truly felt. Moving away from where he had been next to John, to take his place beside Dean.

The younger Winchesters stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, hearts heavy with fear and a sense of foreboding, as they watched their father’s truck drive off to whatever fate midnight held for him.  Dean’s sorrowful, “Later” clung heavy in the air.

They went to Monica’s to wait outside for the demon to show up.  Sam hated to take a chance and not be inside, but he couldn’t come up with a plausible way in the door, that either brother believed would actually work.  So they sat, impatiently waiting, worrying that in the time it took for them to get in the house, it might be too late for the family.

Sam wondered aloud about how their dad might be doing.  It was one of the many things that had been whirling around Dean’s head as they sat there as well.  Dean told Sam he would feel a lot better if they were there backing John up

Dean was taken aback when Sam answered with a surprising, “I’d feel a lot better if he were here backing us up.”

Dean could tell Sam meant it.  And that would have made his heart soar, not even two months ago.  But after the first time they fought Meg and Sam dropped his bomb about leaving once the demon was done, Dean knew that the mere fact that Sam and John had found a peaceful treaty together wouldn’t keep Sam by his side if they killed the demon.  Yes he was glad they were no longer at each other’s throats.  It was what he had wanted for so long, but now it was an empty victory with Sam’s departure looming large on the horizon.

Dean’s soul was heavy with fear and misery.  If this all played out the way they had planned, they would end the demon this very night, which meant Sam might be walking away from him as early as tomorrow morning.  He knew he had to stay on target, he couldn’t let his own personal selfish needs and desires play any role in what was coming, but he was having a very hard time accomplishing that. 

Sam turned to him saying, “This is weird, after all these years, we’re finally here.”  His voice seemed hopeful, happy even.

Sam didn’t quite smile, but the corners of his mouth were turned up slightly as he stated, “It doesn’t seem real.”

It turned Dean’s stomach cold and made his guts tense up.  Dean tried to hide his reluctance about the coming event.  He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat but couldn’t keep his eyes from falling in a down trodden fashion as he said “We just got to keep our heads and do our job like always.” as much to convince himself as to focus Sam.

As Sam countered that this wasn’t like always, tears began to try and form in his eyes unbidden.  He took a deep breath and stopped them in their tracks.

Sam needed to talk to his brother, wanted to say some things that were weighing heavy on him, but he knew Dean wouldn’t like it, and his crying in the process would not help.  Dean hated chick flick moments but Sam needed to tell him anyway.

Sam knew that if this went right, he would need to leave.  John’s presence failing to be the barrier Sam had counted on had made him realize he had to go back to his plan to leave Dean’s side once this was done.  He had hoped beyond hope that he could stay with Dean.  That John would put a stop to Sam’s desires and help him get back to just focusing on being the brother Dean needed.  But it seemed to only be getting worse.  So that meant for everyone’s sake, especially Dean’s, as soon as they killed the demon, and John rejoined them, Sam would leave hunting behind once and for all. 

He didn’t want to.  The thought of it made him feel like he was dying.  But it had to be done.  He couldn’t take the chance that he would slip up and show his true feelings to Dean.  Being away from him would hurt beyond measure, but nothing compared to seeing disgust and hate in Dean’s eyes.  A fate Sam knew was waiting for him if the truth ever came out. 

So he needed to tell Dean how much he appreciated everything he had done for him, not just in case something went wrong tonight and Sam was somehow killed, but in case things went right, and there wasn’t time to tell him once John came back, before Sam left.  He needed Dean to know how much he meant to him, at least as a big brother, it was the closest he could come to sharing his true feelings for Dean honestly.

Sam began reluctantly, “Dean, uh…”  He breathed out heavily, not quite knowing how to start.

He wanted so much to just be honest, to tell Dean he loved him with all his heart, with all his soul, with all that he is, but of course he couldn’t say any of those things.  He dug around for what he could actually say and tried again.

“I wanna thank you.”  He looked at his brother, the man who had been his whole world for most of his life and it wasn’t enough, he had no idea how to convey what Dean meant to him without ruining both of their lives, but this wasn’t enough.

Dean turned to him confused, asking, “For what?”

Sam gave a crooked half smile, and looked away. Suddenly the emotions were too much, threatening to escape, “For everything.”

He felt a little stronger just stating facts.  “You’ve always had my back, you know?  Even when I couldn’t count on anyone, I could always count on you.”

His mind filled with so many images from when Dean would play army men with him, would give Sam the last food they had in the fridge, would stick up for him with the bullies at school, and just in the last few days, Dean had stood tall against their dad, and agreed with Sam’s plan of action.  Sam couldn’t begin to count all the ways Dean had always been there for him.  And he felt unworthy, he felt so wrong and bad inside because of how beautiful he found his brother, especially on nights like this, as seen by lights from distance windows and in shadows, his brothers features stood out like a Roman statue he was so breathtaking. 

Just watching Dean’s face as he waited patiently listening to what Sam was saying made Sam’s heart beat faster, driving his point off the rails and making him flounder a bit.  Made what he said next come out breathy and thick with emotion, “And now, I don’t know, I just wanted to let you know, just in case.”

He didn’t know what to expect, but Dean’s just shy of violent outburst of , “Whoa, Whoa, Whoa.  Are you kidding me?” wasn’t it.

Sam asked incredulously, “What?”

Dean ranted harder, “Don’t say just in case something happens to you.  I don’t want to hear that freakin’ speech, man.”

His tone turned to one of authority, his next statement almost seeming like a command.  “Nobody’s dying tonight. Not us, not that family, nobody. Except that demon.”

Dean’s eyes glared into Sam’s.  Dean watched his brother’s face to make sure he was taking in every word of what he was saying. “That evil son of a bitch isn’t getting any older than tonight. You understand me?”

Dean couldn’t believe Sam was pulling this bullshit.  Not only was he having to dread what was coming because success this evening would mean his losing his brother to Stanford again, but now Sam was throwing all this emotion into the mix, making him feel that Sam thought he might potentially die while fighting this demon. 

Dean couldn’t take that.  He could barely take the idea of Sam being away from him in school again, but to think of Sam not being alive at all, he couldn’t live with that outcome, would do anything to keep that from happening.  He had to fight back tears of fear, and anger and despair as he turned from his brother to watch the house.  No longer able to meet his brother’s soft gaze with the weight of emotion threatening to break down Dean’s walls.

Sam sat with his heart beating fast.  He loved Dean so much, he just wanted him to know that.  But the way Dean had turned aggressive, had taken such a commanding tone, it had an entirely different affect on Sam.  One that was entirely inappropriate for what they were doing there.  It was unacceptable under any circumstance, but especially so when facing a hunt that could cost them their lives.

It just proved how right he was about everything, about leaving being his only option.  He made his face as blank as possible and just stared out the window at the house.  Hoping he could regain control of his body and his emotions before the demon showed its face.

Dean tried their Dad on the phone, to see if Meg had bought the fake Colt but there was no answer.  Dean tried not to fear the worst, especially not with Sam’s emotionally raw words hanging heavy on his mind already.

He didn’t have long to worry though because Sam brought his attention to the fact that the radio was going nuts.  Then the lights all throughout the house they had been watching began to flicker.  The boys realized the demon was coming so they flew out of the car and snuck into the house.  They thought they had been quiet enough but Dean almost took a baseball bat to the skull when Monica’s husband began yelling and swinging the weapon around wildly screaming at them to get out of his house.

Dean subdued him, trying to get him to calm down and listen, explaining that they were there trying to help.  But the man was having none of it, calling for his wife to get the baby.  Sam panicked and yelled up to her not to go into the nursery but she didn’t listen, going immediately and doing exactly as he had instructed her not to do.

Sam ran up the stairs two at a time, and saw the demon standing over Rosie’s crib as it had done with his own almost twenty three years ago.  Its startling yellow eyes glared at Sam.    Sam raised the Colt, taking a shot, that should have ended the thing then and there, but it vanished somehow in a cloud of shadow.   Monica came crashing down beside him from where she had been pinned to the wall.  He helped her up as she screamed hysterically for her baby. 

Dean ran in passed them both to grab up Rosie just as her crib exploded in a roiling flame.  They got the family out to safety just as the upper floor burst into flame as well.  Monica stopped her husband from attacking them, and thanked them for saving her and her baby.

Sam looked up into the nursery window and saw the demon’s dark outline standing in the middle of the flames.  Sam moved to run back inside but Dean stopped him, saying it was suicide.  In that instant Sam didn’t care.  All he could think about was killing the demon, freeing himself and his family from the curse that had started when he was an infant.  He couldn’t keep living with this darkness inside of himself, not so close to Dean.  If he had to sacrifice his own life to free the family from this demon haunting their lives, free Dean from Sam’s dark desires, he would.  He was a willing pawn, the only expendable Winchester in the fight.  He all but told Dean that when he said, “I don’t care.”

Dean yelled in his brother’s face, “I do.”

He manhandled Sam, forcing him to stay put until the demon disappeared from sight.  Sam shut down, staying mute the entire trip home, his face twisted in an angry glaring mask.

They made their way back to the motel room where Dean tried their dad’s phone again to no avail.

He turned to Sam, worry plain on his face and said “Something’s wrong.” 

He felt panic like he had when he first went to retrieve Sam from Stanford.  He knew his dad wasn’t okay, not this time.

Sam sat quietly fuming on one of the beds.  His voice was full of gravelly whispered rage that sounded like it ripped his throat as it came out. “If you had just let me go in there, I could have ended all this.”

His face was hidden by the veil of his hair where he was staring hard at the ground.

Dean walked over to him slowly, speaking calmly trying not to spook him, as he would a wounded tiger. “Sam, the only thing you would have ended was your life.”

The end of the sentence changed to anger as Dean turned around, unable to face his brother because of his own fear that thought caused to rip up his own spine.

Sam looked up at his brother’s back and defensively accused, “You don’t know that.”

Dean turned around in frustration, “So what, you’re just willing to sacrifice yourself? Is that it?” walking back over to loom tall above his seated brother angrily.

Sam stood in defiance, “Yeah. Yeah, your damn right I am.”

The thought of this being over, of Dean maybe having a chance at a more normal life, one without his twisted fucked up little brother yearning for him, wanting him, aching for him, yes he would sacrifice himself for that any day, every day.

Dean was barely holding back his anxiety induced irritation.  Sam’s desire to throw himself into a raging inferno was new, there was something going on that was different than he had ever seen in his brother before and it was scaring the shit out of him.

“That’s not gonna happen, not as long as I’m around.”  He stated it as calmly and factually as he could, out of control emotions brewing and churning just under the surface.

Sam’s own feelings threatened to boil over when he spit out, “What are you talking about, Dean?  We’ve been searching for this demon our whole lives.”

His voice rose with every word, “It’s the only thing we’ve ever cared about.”

Dean wanted to grab him and shake him, tell him that Sam was in fact the only thing he had ever cared about.  That the thought of Sam going back in that burning building made Dean want to pick up every piece of furniture in this room and smash it against the floor.  He wanted to scream and rail and break the world to keep that from happening, to keep his brother safe, and with him. 

Instead he said, “Sam, I wanna waste it, I do, okay? But it’s not worth dying over.”

Sam looked at him as if he had just sprouted two heads.  Their entire family had only ever wanted one thing, to kill this demon.  It was the reason they had given up normal lives.  It was the reason for all they had been through.  He couldn’t believe Dean thought there was any cost too high to stop it once and for all.  Sam knew there was no price he wasn’t willing to pay for Dean to be free. 

Dean’s words came out in a barely controlled fury. “I mean it.  If hunting this demon means you getting yourself killed, then I hope we never find the damn thing.” 

He meant it with every breath he took.  He never wanted to find this thing.  Not only to keep his, pain in the ass, little brother from sacrificing himself, but it would also mean he would stay with him.  He wouldn’t leave if he didn’t end the demon.  If they were forever on the hunt for it, then Sam would stay by his side indefinitely. 

Dean hated himself for feeling that way.  Could see that this was eating Sam up inside.  But Dean needed him, he needed him more than he needed air, and if he could make that happen by them never finding this stupid demon then that was what Dean would hope for, would pray for, happily, especially now that Sam was showing signs of wanting to die in the process.  That wasn’t happening, not now, not ever.

Sam lashed out at Dean, saying, “That thing killed Jess,”

Dean’s face shut down, it hurt to be reminded that was what this was about.  Of course he knew that, but he had been so caught up in needing to save his brother from sacrificing himself that he didn’t even think about Sam still being in love with Jess.  He knew the fact was there, and he thought he had come to terms with it.  But it ripped a hole in his heart the size of Brooklyn when he heard the pain in Sam’s voice again over losing her.

Sam was trying to throw reason into the mix, was trying to convince Dean of the thousands of reasons for them to need this demon dead.  He couldn’t explain to his brother why he was so desperate for it to end now.  But he needed this to be over.  He needed away from Dean once and for all.  His father being back, them all working together, Sam thought it would have solved his desire for Dean.  He though John being around, looming large, would put things back into perspective for him.

But it hasn’t.  If anything, Dean’s new found courage to stand up to their father had increased Sam’s desire for him.  Had made it a thousand times harder to not grab him and kiss him right where he stood.  God he was in hell.  He had to kill this demon and get away from Dean before it was too late.  Before Sam made a mistake that would make Dean hate him forever.  He could face the demon, face death itself, even face walking away from Dean after the demon was dead, knowing he might never see his beloved brother again, but he couldn’t face the look of hate and disgust in Dean’s eyes that he knew was inevitable if Dean found out what lurked in Sam’s soul.

He couldn’t put any of that into words so he said, “That thing killed mom.”

Dean looked up at his little brother. Dean hated Jessica in that moment.  Hated himself for not thinking about their mom.  For thinking only of how Sam had wanted to run back into that burning building.  How he could lose him if he managed to kill the demon, or even worse lose him forever to death at the hands of the demon.  Dean hated both choices and was angry at Sam for making him feel so lost.  His voice was deep, drained, full of pain, when he spoke, “You said yourself once that no matter what we do, they’re gone and they’re never coming back.”

Sam was desperate, Dean was making this impossible, he didn’t understand the need Sam had to leave and escape and make life safe for Dean away from the darkness inside himself that was more dangerous even than the vile yellow eyed demon.  He grabbed Dean by the shirt collar with both hands, pushing him violently against the wall.

Sam growled directly into Dean’s face, mere inches away from him, “Don’t you say that! Don’t you, not after all this, don’t you say that.”

He couldn’t believe Dean was basically saying all this was for nothing.  There had to be an end to this nightmare, there had to be a way out of putting Dean in danger of finding out how he felt.  Killing the demon once and for all was the ultimate way of escape.  Dean would have John at his back to keep him safe from harm and Sam would leave to keep Dean safe from Sam.  Now Dean was saying nothing would change any of it?  His anger had gotten the better of him.  Now he had Dean pinned against the wall and he was almost out of control.  His body ached for his brother.

Sam breathed heavily through his nose, being this close to Dean, it was dangerous.  He was so angry and so fearful of what he was capable of, of how much he wanted to kiss his brother right now, how much he wanted to rip his clothes off and have his way with him.  Dean didn’t understand.  Couldn’t understand that what he was doing was try to protect Dean from Sam himself.  From the twisted horrible desires that were running through him at this very moment, of the monster inside of himself that Dean would surely want to kill even more than he wanted to end the demon if he knew the truth.

Dean’s face was inscrutable.  He stared into Sam’s rage and raw emotion, hating himself for how he felt in this moment.  Dean wanted Sam to kiss him, more than he had ever wanted anything in his life.  He wanted to reach out and grab Sam’s head and pull him in, open him up like a flower and use him until he was satiated and would never think of Jess again.  But he couldn’t.  As horrible of a person as Dean felt he truly was, he couldn’t do that to his baby brother, not when he stood there in anguish over his lost love.  Not to mention he knew it would never get that far, Sam wouldn’t respond the way he wanted, never, Sam was too good, too pure, and he would be repulsed by any advance Dean ever managed to make.  Dean couldn’t allow that to happen, he would lose his brother forever almost as surely as if he had let him go back into that burning house.

Dean needed to say something, needed to minimize the damage that was happening between them.  He looked into the face of the man his heart could not live without and said, “Sam, look…”

He almost said too much, and had to pull himself back, looking away for a moment from the intensity his brother was giving him, swallowed down his own need and desire and gathered himself back under control. “The three of us… That’s all we have.”

Sam’s lip quivered as Dean spoke.  Anguish was clear on his face.

Dean continued, his voice shaking, “And it’s all I have.”  His brow furrowing, he took in a ragged breath, as he watched Sam falling apart in front of him.  Sam’s eyes were filling with tears, breaking Dean’s heart.

Dean didn’t mean to continue, but he couldn’t stop what flowed out of him, “Sometimes I feel like I’m barely holding it together, man.”  He stared deeply into Sam’s eyes.  They had never been this close for this long, face to face, their emotions this raw on the surface floating between them adrift on the ocean of desire and ache.

Sam was shaking and his self control felt like it was barely tied together with the thinnest silk.  Hearing emotions flow from his brother’s voice, it was cutting those threads one by one.  He dropped his head, not being able to maintain the intense eye contact anymore, his breathing ragged and raspy as Dean continued his emotional onslaught.

“Without you and dad…”

Sam had to put physical distance between them before he did something he could never take back. Sam began to weep openly turning away from Dean saying, “Dad.”

In the emotional melee between them Sam had all but forgotten their Dad was in danger.  The only way he would ever be free to leave Dean was if their dad was there to have Dean’s back.  How could he have been so stupid as to get so emotionally close to breaking down his walls with Dean this way.  They had to focus on getting their dad to safety so he could get away, this had been much too close, had almost cost him everything.

Even after Sam let him go, Dean remained standing where Sam had put him against the wall.  His heart aching.  He felt vulnerable and exposed and couldn’t believe how close he had come to reaching out and kissing his brother, ruining everything that ever was between them for his own selfish twisted horrible desires. 

Dean could barely breathe from the pressure of it all.  From what he had almost said, what he had almost done.  He listened as his brother turned the focus back where it belonged, on their father, who was in danger, who had all but been pushed from Dean’s thoughts by how close Sam had been, by how good it felt to be under his control backed against the wall.  Dean pushed down his own feelings of self disgust and focused on dialing his father again as Sam instructed.

As soon as Meg answered, fear gripped Dean’s heart and stole his breath.  He looked to his brother in fright as he said “Where is he?”

Sam’s face turned to his brother in matching horror, knowing what had happened by the shake in Dean’s voice.

Meg taunted, “You’re never gonna see your father again.”

 

 

_**To be continued…** _

**Author's Note:**

> Well folks we are almost at the last episode of Season 1. I can't believe we are here so soon. I hope you liked this story. I had a wonderful time writing it but it was also another big challenge. Trying to explain some the changes happening with the boys that I had never really noticed before, and trying to fill in the blanks of the emotional churning underneath what is actually said aloud was fun and exciting and I had to walk a fine line between what I want and staying true to the characters at this stage in their respective journeys.
> 
> So many of you have wondered where I would like to see them break down and share their emotions for each other, or have their first physical connection romantically. This episode is one that I would truly love to see as a "first time," at least for them to share their true deeper feelings, if not actually kiss. And when I do my next series, the one I am thinking more and more about, for a bunch of first times between them, I feel strongly this episode will definitely be one of the first ones written. But I have to think about what is shown in the episodes, and where things will be going, so I felt even though the scene against the wall is a perfect opportunity, I didn't think it made sense with what was about to happen, with their father. I can't say that I am not a little disappointed, because I really want them to just rip away the walls and go for it. But this series isn't about that. It is about seeing each episode for what I feel is truly there and just broadening the background of it and the scope of the emotions behind it.
> 
> I am truly sorry if you are disappointed that it hasn't happened yet, not just the sex, but the emotional honesty as well. I am too, but hopefully you will still stick with me and see where we can go together.
> 
> Thank you all for your kudos and comments and support through out this journey. I will never have the words to convey how much you all mean to me. 
> 
> Time to cue the music...


End file.
